The Order of the Green Man
by TheBlueTear
Summary: This is a one-shot. If you would like to continue the idea/story go ahead. Contact me if you want.


Harold 'Harry' James Potter was a man with no hope of ever seeing his home again. He was the Boy-Who-Lived, the Man-Who-Conquered, the hero of the Second Blood War. He only wanted to be known as Harry.

The day the war ended, thousands of of people had died. Not just at Hogwarts. No, muggles, wizards, werewolves alike. They all died. For two men. Voldemort, and Dumbledore.

All because of a grudge between them.

Hogwarts was a ruin now, no chance of ever being fixed, and Harry didn't know whether that was a good thing or a bad thing. That school only invited more hatred between wizards, and applauded stagnancy. True, children wouldn't have a place to be educated anymore, but you must tear down the old to bring in the new. Perhaps new schools would be made in the future, changing the idea of how wizards were taught and ultimately how they thought.

Harry didn't care anymore however. He did his duty. He defeated Voldemort himself. Yet, he couldn't get away from what others thought he should do. Become an auror, become minister, help the house elves, marry Ginny.

Did people forget he's human too? That he has his own dreams and wishes. He doesn't have to do as they say.

So he didn't. He packed a bag full of clothes and a chest full of books and tomes he pilfered from Hogwarts and Potter Manor, and he went to a place that he had almost forgotten.

When he was a child once, he remembered going to one place every time he was locked outside by his Aunt. It was a tree in the park.

It was a dead tree, with white bark and branches gnarled and knotted. It was ancient, perhaps the oldest tree in the park. He noticed not many people visited this tree, almost ignored it, but some did. Priests would come here occasionally and become agitated by the tree itself, as if it were a demon. Some goth kids and loners from the nearby high school would come here and feel accepted. It was strange for a young Harry, but as he learned of magic he researched this type of tree in particular.

It's known as a weirwood. Extinct hundreds of years ago. Wizards and witches once worshipped these trees as the messengers of the gods, nameless and faceless. No one knows how the faith was started, but all know how it ended. Christianity came to the British Isles and that was the end of the weirwoods. Chopped down and burnt along with other pagans and witches.

Except for this one.

Harry wondered why that was, but decided it wasn't important to him, only that he should be grateful for it.

On a night with no moon, Harry appeared in front of the tree, wanting to see if he could find his purpose. With only his bag, chest, and wand, he walked up to the tree and placed his hand on it.

Magic. Old Magic was within the dead tree. Perhaps if he could somehow make it alive again…

Taking some of his magic from within, he gently pushed it into the tree. At first nothing happened, other than Harry being a little tired from using so much energy at once. Then the tree started to glow a deep dark red. Leaves started to grow on the dead branches. The place where his hand was, a face started to appear, carved into the wood without a knife.

This whole thing lasted at most five minutes.

After that, Harry fainted.

 _Yellow light and a soft breeze filled the wood. Waking up, Harry was sitting up against a weirwood. In fact, the whole wood was filled with weirwoods. Vibrant red leaves and bone white bark, everywhere._

 _A soft green wild grass grew on the ground with a few bushes of dark green also visible in the wood._

 _Magic was heavy here. It was in the trees, in the ground, in the grass, in the air, and in the light. It was everywhere._

 _A deep clear voice spoke somewhere in the wind to him._

' _Harold James Potter.'_

 _Without thinking, 'Yes?', was already out of his mouth._

' _I am but one of the many gods of the land. I do not have a name, nor do I have a face. I do however, have a title. Call me the Great Wind.'_

' _Why am I here Great Wind?'_

' _You are here because you willed yourself to be elsewhere from where you were before. Luckily, or unluckily, you came here, to this realm between realms. The gods of the land live here, and are worshipped from these trees, as you already know._

 _We have a… job for you if you want'_

' _A job?'_

' _Yes… A job. We don't require you to do much, only a little. You see, in a different realm, on a land called Westeros, our trees and priests are being chopped down and killed. Unfortunately, we cannot stop this. But, we ask you to protect and preserve a small island of trees in the center of Westeros.'_

' _That's it?'_

' _Yes.'_

' _I'll take it.'_

And so, the Order of the Green Men was founded.


End file.
